


TRNDSTTR

by orphan_account



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Tom, Eventual Romance, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Eye Contact, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M, Monster Tom, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Science Experiments, Sex Slave Tom, Sexual Experimentation, Smut, Top Tord, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:11:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Bring him in. Now."A figure was thrown at Tord's feet, and the Norwegian smirked. "Glad you could make it, Thomas."





	1. Must Be Something Underneath

**Author's Note:**

> hey im a piece of shit hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I hate you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE TRNDSTTR OK

"I don't _care_ what it takes. Find him and bring him to me, am I clear?"

"Crystal."

"If you want to be a smartass, you can go and find yourself a new fucking job, Patryk. You'll be dead before you leave the building."

"Better yet, I'll save you the trouble and shoot you myself," Tord spat, a shiny pistol clenched in his hand.

He had bags under his eye, the white dotted with red from sleepless nights.

Patryk grimaced at the Norwegian, turning his back and walking out of the office with a, "They'll find 'm before I do," and a wave of his hand.

The door shut, trapping Tord in darkness besides the soft glow from the blue light on his robotic arm.

He sighed, running his fingers through messy carmel-colored hair.  
He had to find him, _had_ to.

The Brit had no idea what was coming for him.

Tord sat back behind his desk, head resting in his hands.

Too much worry, too many plans..

He knew his army had been searching for Tom ever since the day Tord had been forced to wear an eyepatch and figure out how to function with a robotic arm.

The Brit had obviously gone on the run, but it wasn't anything that the _Red Leader_ , general of the most powerful army ever constructed, couldn't handle, _I mean come on_ , he thought, _I'm taking over the world as I think about this_. 

There was a loud knock, snapping the Red Leader out of his thoughts.

"Sir? We..We found him." Paul's voice was muffled behind the wooden door.

"Already?"

"We were still looking even though Patryk wouldn't, sir."

"I see." Tord cleared his throat, gaining as much composure as he could.

"He's here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Send him in. Now."

The door opened and Paul barked an order, a figure soon being thrown at Tord's feet.

Tom's hands and feet were bound, mouth gagged and wounds littering his body.

"Put up quite a fight, didn't we?" The Norwegian kneeled down next to him, tipping his chin up.

"I'm thrilled you could make it, Thomas."

-

The man in blue writhed and shook, trying to jerk away from Tord's touch.

That earned a hard smack on his face.

"You always were stupid, Tom," Tord stood, pacing in front of the Brit.

"I'd love to hear your voice, though, baby," He smirked, lifting the gag.

"Does it burn?" Tom's voice was dry and overall wrecked, sounding as if he gargled glass before coming.

Tord froze, gritting his teeth.

"Proud of yourself, aren't you?" He gestured to his robotic arm, his eyepatch.

The scars.

"Quite," Tom spat, choking out a laugh, blood staining his lips.

"I think you're forgetting you're at _my_ mercy." 

"You're not gonna kill, me, Commie, I know better."

"What will I do then?"

Tom tried to shrug, wincing after his bound arms rejected the idea.

"Probably torture me. Mangle me, just like I did you. Revenge tastes good, right?"

"You're so fucking cocky, aren't you?" Tord stepped forward, pressing his boot against Tom's cheek, the Brit groaning as his face smashed into the floor.

"Onl' fo' jou," Tom squeaked out, blinking back tears of sheer pain as Tord's boot dug into his face harder.

The Norwegian scoffed, yanking Tom to his feet by the hood of his sweatshirt, scowling at the pathetic excuse for a man in front of him.

"Don't worry, Tommy, I'll make sure to take good care of you," He tilted his head, smiling sweetly.

Almost as sweet as the day he knocked on the door of his and Edd's house.

"F-uck you," He coughed, staining his hoodie even more than before, red splattering onto the fabric.

"I think we'll wait a little before we do that, right?" Tord gripped Tom's unruly hair, yanking it back.

"Maybe get to know each other better?"

-

"Is tha-that really necessary?" Tom swallowed hard as Tord fixed a pair of handcuffs over the rope on his wrists.

"Safety precautions, sweetie."

He didn't make eye contact.

"Where're 'm I going?"

"You're coming with me, to my-how do you put it-ah, _personal_ lab." 

That fucking grin made Tom want to vomit.

Well, that and the fact that he had lost a shit ton of blood and probably was going to die anytime soon.

Probably.

Tord reached behind his desk and pulled out what unmistakably was a collar and leash, fastening the cold leather around Tom's throat.

He suddenly thought the phrase 'Fuck you' may have been taken a little too seriously by the Norski.

Tom broke out in a cold sweat as he was blindfolded and pulled harshly around until bright lights shone in his face and the cloth was removed from his eyes, revealing a lab fit for any evil, crazy, just fucking sadistic person.

"You like it?" Tord held his arms out, raising his eyebrows.

"No," Tom croaked.

"I hate it. I hate you."

Tord leaned close, his forehead touching Tom's.

"You'll learn to love me."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean-" Tom was cut off by Tord, a cold hand clenched around his throat.

"New rules here, sunshine. You will do everything I say, when I say it, or you _will_ die. Understand?" 

Tom swallowed and winced, nodding shakily.

"Good boy," Tord kissed his cheek and the Brit jerked away involuntarily.

"You'll learn," The Norwegian smirked, taking Tom's arms and forcing them above his head, a hook securing around the handcuffs.

He was now hanging slightly from the wall, completely vulnerable to anything.

"I think we'll start the fun a little later, okay Thomas? I'll let you get settled in." Tord cackled and left Tom helpless.

"Fuck you."


	2. Can I Learn Your Flavor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't try to fight it, Thomas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi how ya doin im a salad
> 
>  
> 
> monster tom looks like tentacle-feast's version 
> 
> go find him on tumblr hes pretty rad

Tom was left in silence, except for the quiet hum of machines in the back.

He didn't want to know what those machines did.

He tried to assess his options, glancing around the room with wide, scared eyes.

Tord had been smart to keep anything that could be of use to Tom out of the way.

Clever bastard.

The Brit tried to struggle against his bindings, but his body had other ideas and refused to move.

He was exhausted, beaten, bruised, and overall just fucking delirious from everything that'd happened.

Tom felt his eyelids start to droop as the room around him began to get blurry, sleep finally taking over.

-

"So, what d'you even plan on doing with him?"

"Whatever I want, Patryk. Is it any of your business what I do with my prisoner?" Tord tilted his head, narrowing his eye.

"Guess not," Patryk leaned back and fell silent.

Tord focused his attention back on the group sitting around the table.

"As I was saying, we only have three mor-"

"Tord! Please let me out it _hurts_ Tord pleeease-" 

Muffled cries came from the walls and Tord turned bright red.

He stood, gritting his teeth.

"Meeting adjourned."

Men in blue and red uniforms filed out while Tord stomped angrily back to his office, opening the well-hidden door to his lab and slipping in.

Tom was a mess hanging from the wall; shoulders slouched, head down, tears and blood pattering onto the tile.

"What the _fuck_ ," Tord gripped the Brit's hair, yanking it back. 

"Do you think you were doing?"

"It hurts, Tord, please let me out," Tom whined, his face turned in a grimace.

A tear slipped onto Tord's hand and he froze, sighing.

"I don't know why I fucking care about you so much," He huffed, unlocking the handcuffs and letting Tom drop to the floor.

"T-The rope..?"

"Christ, Thomas," Tord knelt down and cut the ties with a knife from his boot.

Tom moved his arms back in front of him, several cracks echoing through the room from his muscles and joints resettling.

"Sh-Shit," He held himself up carefully, crying out and falling back onto the floor.

Tord bit his lip and closed his eyes, weighing his options.

"God damn it, come here you tiny fuck," He muttered, slinging Tom over his shoulder and walking back into his office.

Tom wrapped his legs around the Norwegian's waist, sniffling quietly into his shoulder.

He was soon being laid in a hospital-like bed, curtains drawn around him to keep anyone else out.

Tord stood above him and Tom realized just how fucking intimidating the Norski looked.

His face was drawn in a sort of grimace, the right side of his face slack due to the damage caused in the past.  
The skin looked tight and painful, deep scars jutting out prominently.

His uniform screamed power; a dark blue trench-like overcoat with red underneath.  
A gold nametag simply read, 'R.L', pinned onto the material.

Tom wondered if Tord's old hoodie was underneath the coat.

He wondered if the 'Red Leader' still remembered his old friends, old house.

"Why?" He choked out, eyebrows furrowed.

"Why, what?" Tord spat.

"Why me?"

Tord bit his lip.

"You'll find out later, just-try not to fucking die, okay? I need you for some..experiments."

And just like that he was gone.

Gone in a flurry of blue and red, leaving Tom alone with nothing but his thoughts.

-

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_." 

Tord paced around his office, breathing shakily.

"Just use him for what you wanted; then kill him, doesn't matter, right? He's useless-"

"Sir?"

"What?" Tord snapped, breaking away from his terrified mumbles.

"Tom-I mean, the prisoner-he's calling for you." Paul swallowed hard.

"Just-bring him in, fix him up first," Tord turned, his back facing the door.

"I can't follow through with my plan if he's all screwed up, can I?"

Paul nodded and shut the door, barking out an order to someone outside.

Tord leaned on his desk, shutting his eye.

 _You do not love him, he's just a toy for you to do with as you please, he's not a lover, he's not a lover, he's not-_

Tom stumbled into the room covered with bandages, his hands cuffed in front of him.

"Hi," He mumbled.

Tord immediately withdrew back into his harsh, strict persona.

"Did I tell you to speak?" He hissed, dragging Tom into the lab.

"P-Please, Tord, I didn't mean-!" Tom clawed at Tord's hand, the fabric of his sweatshirt choking him as he was pulled forcefully back into that hellish room.

Tord tossed him onto an examining table like a doll, striding over to a metal tray and picking up a needle.

"What're you-what're you gonna do?" Tom was shaking, cowering away from the needle that was filled with a deep purple substance.

Tord didn't answer.

He flicked the side of the vial before sticking the tip into Tom's neck, his thumb pressing down on the plunger.

The Brit howled, pulling away from Tord a moment too late, as the serum had already entered his body.

Tord walked away emotionlessly, tossing the dirty needle into a garbage can.

Tom shook, chest heaving as he turned to look at the Norwegian.

"What the f-fuck did you do to me?" He panted, gasping as pain shot through his body.

Tord simply watched with a bored expression, his hands behind his back.

Tom slipped off of the table, falling to his knees and clawing at the floor as spiraled, purple horns began to make themselves known under his hair.

"A-Ah-FUCK-" He yowled, ripples of pain and something else he couldn't quite identify surging through his body.

Tord just sighed, blinking and even yawning as the writhing mess below him grew into an 8-foot beast with demon-like claws, razor teeth, a long, purple tail, and-

He pounced, Tord barely making it out of the way as he backed against the wall.

"Fuck-" He stuttered, eye widening at the monster approaching him, dark, animalistic eyes narrowing at the Norwegian.

"Tom, I swear to god-" Tord leapt out of the way as a huge claw swung, a roar echoing through the room.

What had he done?

Sure, this experiment had been proven defective plenty of times, but, with Tom...

Tord was now cornered, a looming shadow of a beast coming closer.

"I-I can fix this," He tried to calm Tom down, his hands up defenselessly.

"T-Tom, I need you to-to chill out for me, o-okay?" Tord glanced at the antidote sitting across the room.

Tom swung and a large gash made itself known on Tord's arm, blood flowing reely.

"Fuck-fuck, fuck," He hissed, clutching his wound.

Tord skidded across the room as Tom batted him around like a toy, bruises and cuts starting to pepper his body.

"Tom, s-stop," He pleaded, his breath uneven.

The monster raised his paw to swipe again but paused, almost looking questioningly at the Norwegian.

"S-Sit..?"

The creature obeyed.

Tord sat up shakily, wincing.

"Good boy?"

Tom's tail wagged a bit.

"F-Fuck, I've created an overgrown dog."


	3. Fire When The Strobe Hits You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun times with Tom and Tord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus this was a hit fuck 
> 
> thank

"O-Okay, we just gotta-figure this out."

Tord looked up at Tom, who cocked his head and wagged his tail a bit, a purple tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"St-Stay," He ordered, slowly making his way to the table across the room where medical supplies were stored; and where the antidote was kept.

Tom stared at him lazily.

The Norwegian finaly reached the area, sloppily wrapping his bloodied arm with gauze before picking up the needle gently.

Tom's ears fell back a bit, his lip curling as he saw the syringe.

"Good b-boy, stay r-right there, Tom," Tord mumbled, stepping towards him carefully.

It was in a split-second that Tord decided to just fuck it and do it fast.

He lunged at Tom, burying the needle into his neck.

The beast jerked away and Tord rolled off, landing on the floor with a thud.

He tried to steady his breathing and calm himself down as his wound was disturbed, new blood gushing out.

When Tord looked up there was a messy looking Tom with a ripped, stretched out hoodie on.

"W-What the fuck-" He started.

"I'm-I'm a dumbass," Tord waved his hand, panting.

"Yeah, yeah you are," Tom knelt beside him, grimacing at the gash.

"I did that to you?"

"Mmhm, and I'd appreciate it if you'd help me out instead of just fucking sitting there," Tord spat.

"Um-right, where are the-"

"Table-shelf-whatever, that thing over there," Tord pointed at the place where he got the needle, blood drying onto the metal slowly.

Tom stood and jogged to the small table-like surface, grabbing as many bandages as he could and skidding back over to the Norwegian.

"I'm-I'm sorry," He mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows as he wrapped Tord's arm tightly.

"Not your fault," Tord snorted.

"But now I've got myself into an ever bigger mess."

"Why?"

"Well, that antidote I gave you, the very last one we had, just so happened to be the one that has relapsing effects," Tord winced, standing shakily.

"And? Am I gonna become a monster whenever there's a full moon or something?" Tom crossed his arms.

"No, stupid. I'm not _that_ idiotic." 

"Then what the hell is it?"

"You only become a monster when you're..aroused," Tord swallowed hard.

"Sexually."

-

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" Tom shook his head, blushing a bit as he paced the room.

"Trust me, I'd rather it be the other way around," Tord muttered, cleaning up some of the scattered papers and equipment off the floor.

"So, what? Every time I get horny I have to fuck something?"

"Kind of. You, well," Tord sighed.

"You lay eggs."

"EXCUSE ME-" Tom was cut off by the Norwegian, a cold metal hand covering his mouth.

"You're just gonna have to live with it, beast-boy. I have to be the one you.." Tord trailed off, scowling.

"Never mind that, just don't fucking scream in here, asshole." He went back to cleaning, trying to hide the blush that crept up to his ears.

"Oh my god," Tom smirked.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Ridiculous," Tord shook his head.

"You just wanted to use me as a personal sex toy, didn't you?"

"Tom, I swear to god-"

"And I mean, being a monster'll only increase the size of my-"

Tord spun around, backing Tom against the wall, a hand around his throat.

"You fucking forget I'm the one who decides whether you live or die," He hissed, teeth grit.

"So I suggest you stop playing like this is some little game and follow my fucking orders."

Tom smirked.

"You're short."

"Excuse me?"

Tom patted Tord's head, and the Norwegian realized he was indeed at least a head or two shorter than the Brit above him.

"I can still fucking murder your ass-"

"Okay," Tom laughed, ruffling Tord's hair.

There must've been something in the antidote, he thought, because he could've sworn Tom wasn't that tall before.

And since when did he have such rippling muscles?

The hoodie that was once too big now fit him perfectly, Tom now taller and more fit than Tord.

"Since when did you.." The Norski pouted a bit, weighing his options.

"What's that, sweetie?" Tom tilted his head, grinning devilishly.

"Just because an antidote I gave you made you bigger than me doesnt mean you can just-" Tord was cut off with a yelp as he was thrown over Tom's back.

"Thomas, I swear to fucking god, let me down or I will call security on your ass!" He yelled, kicking and hitting Tom's back uselessly.

"Mmkay," Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes, enjoying his new look, to be honest.

Tord eventually gave up and went limp under Tom's grasp.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please let me down before I skin you alive and feed you to my piranhas?"

"Okay, not exactly, but okay," Tom set the Norwegian down and laughed a bit.

"I hate you."

"I hate you too," Tom blew a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> im ashamed of you for reading this


End file.
